It was the area around a small hunter-trapper community called Moosehead. They came upon an area 235 miles south of Colorado Springs Plain that Rockson himself had crossed years earlier. Nothing lasts forever, not even the Hall of Presidents. "No," Rock replied, "The weight of the snow finally got to the roof.
There was a pack rat sticking its nose out of the decayed fabric. "His top hat don't look too good." Rona said. And there are some notes describing the places they stopped." "Run Dutil took bearings and direction readings with a sextant. "Direction readings," Rock yelled exhultantly. It would be useful, for if the navigation device had some error in it, they could take that into account in plotting their trek south.Įagerly he played the light across its contents. JFK was up to his knees in snow.ĭetroit rummaged around and found the toy sextant Run Dutil had used for compiling his meager notes in JFK's plastic hands. A tattered and mouse-eaten American flag hung disintegrating on a pole nearby. He was staring forever at the three astronauts in spacesuits that had returned from the moon and were coming in to receive his accolades. The snow flurries drifted in on the figure of John F. Light spilled in from above through a hole in the ceiling. "I remember this place," Danik said, "the President's Museum is about a mile away from here - just beyond those boulders shaped like a pile of kid's blocks."ĭanik took the lead, and they passed a lifelike statue of Teddy Roosevelt riding a horse in the Battle of Bull Run, and then a replica of President Bush signing the Martial Law decree in the Oval Office. McCaughlin shouted, "Watch out -" and drew his shotpistol, before he realized the face was familiar. Rockson gasped as his beam hit a human face. It was dark inside, they lit a flashlight. Rockson and his Freefighters pulled up their sleds in front of the blackened crumbling structure and gingerly stepped into the ruin.
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